


Five times Jillian Holtzmann tried to flirt with Erin Gilbert (and one time it actually worked)

by Ptolemia



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humour, alt title: Somebody Stop Jillian Holtzmann From Ever Being In A Lab Ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptolemia/pseuds/Ptolemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jillian Holtzmann is, naturally, great at everything. Science? Check. More science? Check. Fire? Hell yeah.</p><p>Flirting? Well... mostly only if it involves setting things on fire.</p><p>But Erin's gotta be won over by a decent explosion or two? Right??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for a good five times/one time. Now, in all honesty, this is going to be a bad five times/one time - but you take what you can get, y'know? 
> 
> The rating /might/ go up, but I'm on the fence about that one. We shall see...
> 
> Also, credit where it's due, Holtz counting down in her head is (loosely) inspired by a scene from Flight of the Conchords.
> 
> Send me prompts/stroke my ego at www.moist-von-lipwig.tumblr.com (if you already sent me one, I'm working on it, promise, just... slowly...)

Erin's just about to sit down with her lunch when her phone rings. She hesitates, fork poised over the plate of pasta that has, by this point, long since gone cold. She's been rushed off her feet all afternoon, it's nearly 3pm, and she hasn't eaten. She glances at her phone, then at the pasta, then back at the phone, then back at the pasta – and makes an executive decision that whatever she's being called about, it can wait 'til after she's had at least a few mouthfuls of lunch.

 

“Uh, excuse me,” says Kevin, and Erin jumps, forkful of pasta poised just in front of her mouth.

“Oh! Don't do that!”

Kevin cocks his head. “What?”

“I- never mind. What did, uh,” she puts her fork down and straightens her jacket self-consciously. She'd completely forgotten Kevin was in the room – she really _must_ be hungry, “What did you want to say, Kevin?”

“There's a, uh, a phone ringing for you,” he says, pointing at her phone, still on the table and still ringing shrilly. “Just there.”

“Yes, I know.”

Kevin hesitates for a few seconds, observing Erin with an expression of vague but distinct confusion. “... are you going to answer it?”

“No, not just now,” says Erin, in a brisk but efficient tone that she hopes will end all further conversation.

Kevin's face contorts for a moment, before settling into a very hesitant frown – as though he's not quite sure how to form the expression and he's trying it out for the first time. Erin watches him with something she sort of wants to think is attraction and sort of knows, in her heart of hearts, is actually more a kind of horrified, fascinated confusion about how Kevin manages to function in the world at all. “Uh,” he says, eventually, “you...” he hesitates, brow contorting further, “should answer it.”

“Pardon?”

His face abruptly clears up, and he grins. “Yep. Yeah, I learned that one. When your phone,” he points at the phone again, and stage whispers, _“That one is yours,”_ as though he's letting her in on some enormous secret, “When- when it rings, you have to answer it.”

“Well,” says Erin, trying to smile through gritted teeth, “I'm not going to do that just now.”

“Yeah, uh, you've got to. Or you'll be fired.”

“No, Kevin, that's-”

“Ah-ah, no excuses - we've all got to do our bit as Ghostbusters, Erin.”

“I don't have to-”

“Well, I'm afraid that if you want to keep working with us all-” begins Kevin - Erin is fairly certain he's quoting something Abby said to him earlier this week verbatim at this point – and then the phone cuts off.

 

Kevin stares at it. “Oh. Guess they stopped wanting to talk to you. Huh.”

“Sure looks like they did,” says Erin, digging into her pasta with barely concealed delight.

Kevin's face falls. “You ignored them 'til they gave up, Doctor Gilbert. What if you made them sad?”

“Well,” says Erin, so pleased to finally be free of that horrible phone ringing that she doesn't even bother correcting Kevin and telling him that he's _more_ than welcome to call her Erin, “I'm sure they'll call back if it's important.”

 

This time she manages to eat one whole forkful of cold, congealing pasta before her phone rings again. She glares at it.

“Looks like it must be important,” volunteers Kevin, staring at her expectantly.

Erin sighs, puts her fork down, and begrudgingly picks the phone up. She glances at the caller ID. Holtzmann? That's odd. She could have sworn Holtz was in the building today...

 

“Hello?” she says, hitting the green call button with a vague sense that she might well not see her pasta again until it had moved beyond any reasonable freshness threshold for being considered a non-biohazard foodstuff, “What have you-”

Holtzmann proceeds to make a loud imitation of the Ecto-1's siren for just over one minute and thirty-three seconds. Erin knows this because she's staring down at her watch and contemplating her own poor life choices for the whole duration. Holtzmann stops abruptly just before the one minute thirty-four mark, and says, “I'm out of shampoo.”

Erin takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Also, the toilet's blocked, but I... dealt with that... so don't worry about it just now.”

“Okay.”

Holtzmann hesitates. “I mean, maybe worry about it a _little_. My current solution is... unstable. Um. I'll fill you in about that when I'm out of the bath.”

“... okay.”

There's an expectant silence from the other end of the phone.

“Your siren impression has improved,” says Erin, rather stiffly, after the silence stretches on a little too long to be comfortable.

“Thanks! I've been practising it on Patty. She's not speaking to me right now.”

“You don't say.”

“Nor is Abby.”

“Wow.”

“I thought it was pretty impressive, yeah.”

There's another expectant pause.

 

Eventually, Erin sighs. “I'm not bringing you shampoo, Holtz.”

“Whaaaaaat?”

“Get your own.”

“Aw, you just want to see me come down there naked and get some, huh?”

“I- what?! No! Dry off and go buy your own. Stop taking my stuff.”

“But I _like_ your stuff.”

“But it's _mine_.”

“But-”

Erin breathes out slowly and calmly, “I'm going to hang up now,” she says, in a tone of calm and collected reason.

 

“WAIT!”

Erin rolls her eyes. Holtzmann can't see it, but it's still satisfying, somehow. “What?”

“Ok, so, I lied about the shampoo.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“I'm not even in the bath, actually. You have been deceived,” Holtzmann lowers her voice in a tone of utter seriousness, as though she's about to pronounce a death sentence, “and lied to.”

“What? Do- do you even have a reason for calling me? I'm just about to finally get my lunch, Holtz, I'm not in the mood for-”

“Ooh, kinda late for lunch, huh?”

“Right. That's- that is just _it_. You know what-” begins Erin, but Holtzmann cuts across her.

“So, about why I actually called, though - I may be somewhat stuck on the ceiling. Or, well, suspended from the ceiling, anyway.”

Erin blinks. “Pardon?”

“Yeah, uh, I tied myself up here so I could work on that new containment unit from the top without cracking the winch out, but then I kinda fell, so... I mean, the ropes did stop me from being, like, an undercooked Holtzy pancake on the concrete right now, buuuuut they also got a little twisted up when I fell and now I'm upside down. And I can't really move because I don't exactly have great core muscle strength. Or any muscle strength, really.”

“Right,” says Erin, “You- why did you-”

"Tell you I was in the bath? Dunno. Figured it might pique your interest, Doctor Gilbert."

"Wait, what?"

"Uh, nevermind."

"Right. But, but why did you-"

"Tie myself haphazardly to the ceiling to get a better view on the enormous untested nuclear device I built in our HQ with absolutely no safeguards or legal permission?"

"Yes."

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“... did it?”

There's a pause while Holtzmann clearly takes a moment to consider this. “Uh, no. You know, honestly I think I probably didn't use the right knots for this rope at all. I think it's coming loose. Hang on, lemme give this a tug and-”

“Don't-”

 

Holtzmann yelps, and Erin almost drops the phone, heart pounding. “Oh my god! Are you alright?!”

She's never been so pleased to hear Holtzmann's stupid, smug laugh. “Yeah, don't worry, I'm messing with you. Uh. Although... well. That did actually loosen one of these knots kinda a lot more that I was anticipating. It's... uh, let's just say you should probably hurry up and get me down.”

“Oh, jeez, Holtz... alright, I'll be right up, just hang on 'til I get there. Is there anything you have that you could use to help keep you safe while I figure out-”

“Uh, I have my phone?”

“Which you're using to call me right now.”

“Yep.”

Erin sighs. “So, other than the phone, you've got nothing useful to hand?”

“... I have a blowtorch?”

“Do _not_ light that, Holtzmann. I mean it.”

“I didn't say I was gonna!”

“You didn't need to. Don't you dare turn that thing on, you hear me?”

“I could set a rope on fire.”

“You'd fall!”

“Yeah... it'd be funny, though.”

“I- you're not allowed to do that.”

“You're not the boss of me.”

“Holtz!”

“Jeez, alright, I won't start burning anything for at least... a minute.”

“ _Holtz!_ ”

“Fine, two minutes. But only 'cos you're pretty.” There's a loud beep as Holtzmann hangs the call.

 

Erin puts her phone down, and allows herself a brief moment to put her head in her hands and sigh deeply. Then she turns to Kevin. “Hey,” she says, “I need you to come with me as quick as you can, I need some help with-”

“Sorry,” says Kevin, pulling on his coat with a chirpy grin, “It's time for my lunch break!”

“Wait, no, Kevin, Holtz is in trouble, I need you to help me-”

Kevin chuckles. “We'd _all_ be in trouble if we went about ignoring statutory requirements to allow workers break times! Plus, I haven't eaten since first lunch. I'm hungry.”

“First lunch? And- Kevin, when did you learn what 'statutory' means?”

“Yeah, like first and second breakfast, but with lunch - you remember that documentary we watched with Abby about the little guy with the beautiful eyes and big feet who was big on recycling jewellery?”

“Oh my god,” says Erin, mostly to herself, “Oh my god, Kevin, sweetie, no, that's not...”

“And statutory means that it's the law.”

“Oh! You do know... huh. Wow, hey, well done! Who explained that to you?”

Kevin raises an eyebrow, “Everyone knows that, Doctor Gilbert. It's like 'statue' because, as you know, all laws are made by the Statue of Liberty.”

“... pardon?”

“She sneaks away at night to tell the President stuff, and then he makes it the law. You _did_ know that, right?”

“Right,” says Erin, faintly, “Yes, of course. Silly me.”

“For a scientist, you get really confused about pretty simple stuff, sometimes,” says Kevin, “but that's ok; I'm always here to help. Well – when I'm off break, anyway. See ya!” And with that he steps out into the corridor and goes bounding off down the stairs.

 

Erin shouts a half-hearted, “Wait!” after him, but it occurs to her that, despite his impressively muscular physique, Kevin might actually be more of a hindrance than a help in any attempt to rescue Holtzmann.

She sighs, and kicks her heels off so she can take the stairs two at a time without loosing all sensation in her toes.

 

Erin reaches the second floor in record time. As she reaches the landing she can't help but shake her head at the fact that Holtzmann has managed to lay claim to an entire floor of the building. It's madness, frankly, but she's managed to enforce it pretty effectively simply by leaving bits of machine and sparking wire lying around over almost every available surface – anyone who values their life steers clear of the whole area by this point out of pure animal instinct. Erin peers around as she enters, slightly wary. As she leans in to inspect a panel of blinking lights with no visible control panel – or obvious purpose – to be seen, a nearby pipe emits a noxious belch of steam and she leaps back with a startled yelp.

“Erin!” comes a shout, echoing in the high-ceilinged space and reverberating strangely off all the softly whirring machines and hunks of metal and wire.

Erin steps gingerly into the room, eyeing the scattered nails, loose wires, and assorted debris strewn across the floor - and for the first time in her life finding herself in a situation where heels might genuinely have counted as sensible footwear. Well. More sensible, at least, than leaving her poor feet to the mercy of the- is that a knife on the floor? Oh dear. “Heya,” she calls, glancing around in the direction the voice seemed to have come from, but seeing nothing other than more dubious looking machinery. “Uh, hi? Hello? Are you-”

“Up here!” says Holtz, and then "Boo!" as Erin glances up to see where the voice is coming from – and lets out a involuntary shriek when she suddenly realises that Holtz is almost directly above her.

“ARGH! Oh, ok,” she says, stepping sharply backward and almost falling over a low-lying anvil, “Sorry, I didn't- I wasn't expecting you to be there.”

Holtzmann's grin widens, and Erin takes a moment to take in exactly what on earth that ridiculous woman has managed to get herself into this time. She's not wildly high up - maybe a meter or so above the top of Erin's head if she stands at full height, but she's head-down and tangled up in a frankly baffling system of fraying ropes which creak every time she so much as breathes. The drop is also straight onto concrete, which...

 

“Well,” Erin says, only it comes out more like a squeak, “Let's get you down before you- well. That would be a very, very unpleasant landing. I mean _really_ unpleasant.”

Holtzmann grins maniacally. “Right? I mean, I thought I was gonna go ghost-side for realsies for a second when I fell. Like, _permanently_ type of dealio. Really lucky I at least sorta tied myself to something this time.”

“Right,” says Erin, faintly, “Yes, that's... that's lucky. Alright.” She claps her hands together, takes a deep breath, and attempts to embrace a business-like and level-headed attitude. “Right! Now, what's our game plan?”

 

Holtzmann laughs, and the ropes around her judder alarmingly. She doesn't seem fazed by this development. “Y'know,” she says, “You crack me up. You really do. Game plan. Like, for business meetings.” She chuckles. “Doctor Holtzmann,” she says, pitching her voice up an octave in a tone which might be a genuine impression of somebody but then again might just be a generic 'this is an impression' voice, “Will you get down from there at once and consider how we might implement motivational career-based goals using this colour-coded chart showing our yearly profits?”

Erin narrows her eyes. “Oh, well I'm glad you're finding my rescue attempt amusing, Holtzmann. Really, I am. I can't wait to see your face when it ends up all over the concrete.”

“Oh.”

“No, wait, I didn't-” Erin shakes her head. “Sorry. Sometimes I just... say things. Um. Just tell me what you need me to do so you can get down.”

 

Holtzmann hums thoughtfully. “Well, that's a good question. I was kinda hoping you'd be able to shed some light on that little predicament...”

“Oh jeez.”

“And you should probably get on it fast. I've been upside-down for like... half an hour? I guess at some point I'll black out.”

“Please don't?”

Holtz laughs. She _does_ look alarmingly red in the face. “Well, since you ask so nicely...”

Erin frowns. “Uh, how long exactly can somebody hang upside down before-”

“Blacking out? Not a clue. Dying? Varies massively. If you're fit, maybe a day or two. If you're not, not so long. Very little data.”

“You looked it up?”

“I googled it, yeah. I mean, I had my phone on me, and being upside-down is kinda boring, so, y'know. Thought I'd do a bit of research.”

“You- did you google that before you called for help?”

“Mmmmmaybe.”

Erin sighs. “I'm not- I don't- urgh. Let's just get you down from there.”

Holtzmann beams. “Hey, I like the way you think!”

 

Erin takes a step back, eyeing up the swaying mass of ropes with a little frown. “Well, alright, okay, so. Soooo. Hmm.”

“Please, try to sound even less like you know what you're doing. It's so reassuring.”

“I'm doing my best! Be quiet.”

“Yessir!”

Erin sighs. “Right. Okay. Well, it looks like most of this is tied to that big beam up there... and some of it is... right! I see. Well, maybe if I could get up to the ceiling I could, um, untangle some of the... uh...”

“And how are you proposing to get up there?”

“Well that- that might be a bit of a stumbling block, I admit... I mean, there's the step ladder but that's nowhere near tall enough to... perhaps we should call the fire brigade or something? They have proper ladders. And attractive, selfless, muscular young men who could-”

“Right,” says Holtzmann, pulling her goggles out of her pocket and jamming them onto her steadily reddening face with an expression of pure determination, “No, that's it, I'm going with my original plan instead.”

“Wait, wha-” begins Erin.

There's a loud _fffffttt_ noise as the blowtorch Holtzmann's been holding in her free hand flickers on.

“Oh no you don't,” says Erin, trying not to panic and failing miserably, “Holtzmann, look at me, don't you dare-”

 

Holtzmann laughs, slightly manically, and the whole tangle of ropes lurches ominously. “Hey! Which one do I burn first?”

“Don't- none of them, Holtz!”

“Close, but no cigar. You gotta _pick_. C'mon, this is fun!”

“This is not fun. This is the opposite of fun! Holtz, be sensible, if you burn a rope-”

“I might get myself freed up enough to climb down.”

“Right, or you might _die_!”

Holtzmann winks. “You better choose the right rope, then.”

“Holtzmann!”

“I'm gonna say you have, hmm... ten seconds to choose. Or I'm just gonna shut my eyes and...” She waves the blowtorch dangerously close to one one of the ropes and Erin shrieks.

“No! Okay, alright, just- why don't you put that down and-”

“Not a chance, hotshot.”

Erin can feel her palms beginning to sweat. “I don't- I was never very good under pressure,” she mumbles.

“I'm down to six, by the way,” says Holtzmann, idly swaying from side to side as she waves the blowtorch toward a likely-looking tangle, “So, I'm thinking, this bit looks like a good place to start if you don't have any better-”

“Wait what? Are you counting down in your _head_?”

“Duh.”

“And what are you on now?”

Holtzmann grins, shark-like. “Three.”

“Okay,” squeaks Erin, frantically scanning the tangle of ropes and wires in hopes of suddenly seeing the perfect solution, “Uh, um, okay, three seconds, I can- uh, I think-”

“Time's up!” chirps Holtzmann, “I'm gonna go for this one-”

 

At which point several things happen almost, but not quite, at exactly the same time.

 

Firstly, Erin has a sudden realisation about the nature of the tangle Holtzmann is in, and shrieks, “THE ONE ABOVE THAT!”

 

Secondly, Holtzmann manages to twitch the path of the blowtorch up a fraction at the last second, burning through the rope Erin suggested with an ominous little chuckle.

 

Thirdly, Erin has _another_ realisation that her first realisation might not, in fact, have been totally correct, goes to yell at Holtzmann to stop and - and then, with a loud _creeeeak_ of rope and some distant sparks up near the ceiling, Holtzmann goes plummeting downwards, and Erin screams, throwing her hands over her eyes as the whole world seems to spin and she wants to- has to- do something, anything, but she can't move her legs or her arms or- and she can't think and her- and she can't- she can't- she's a mess of _wrongropewrongrope_ and _jumpandcatchher_ and _fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK_ only she can't even bring herself to open her eyes let alone do anything actually _helpful_ and, and, and - and then-

 

There's a quiet giggle in front of her, and she opens her eyes to see Holtzmann suspended in mid-air right in front of her. She's dropped a meter or so from where she was, but the rest of the tangle seems to have held and she's once again suspended in (relative) safety, glasses hanging hapazardly from one ear, head at almost exactly the same height as Erin's but upside down. She's so close, actually, that their noses are almost touching, and she's right there, safe and sound and... and laughing away like it's the funniest thing in the world that she could have fucking _died._ Erin has never, to her recollection, ever been this furious with a single person in her life – apart from maybe Abby, who's sort of a special case.

She gapes, too angry to string together a proper sentence in the face of this stupid, infuriating, laughing- could have died, Jesus- she's so angry! She's so angry that she can't even _think_ straight, let alone-

“Hey,” says Holtzmann, reaching out and gently touching Erin's face with the hand not _currently holding a lit blowtorch oh my god_ , “You ever seen spider man?”

Erin glares. “That's not- that's not funny.”

“Oh, I'm not trying to be funny,” drawls Holtzmann, with a lazy wink, “I'm-”

 

But whatever Holtzmann is trying to do, Erin doesn't hear it – she's already stalked over to get the stepladder from the far side of the lab. Now Holtzmann isn't all that far from the ground it shouldn't be too much of a task to unhook her from the ridiculous mess she's got herself in and then... and then Erin is going to go take a long, calming walk, and think mindful thoughts, and drink a healthy smoothie. Or some neat whisky. Either way.

 

Could have _died_. Jesus.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh come _on_ ,” grumbles Abby, glaring around the lab with a frustrated scowl, “I can't be the only person here with the strength to carry these boxes! Can somebody- Kevin, come help with this.”

Erin sits up. “Oooh, go on Kevin, help Abby lift that.”

Holtzmann snorts.

Patty rolls her eyes. “Really, girl? Still with the-”

“Uh, I can't,” says Kevin, holding his hand up. There's a large band-aid over his pinky finger. “I hurt my hand.”

“What happened?” says Erin, with what she hopes is an air of attractive but not over-attentive concern. “Are you alright? Shall I kiss it be-”

“I, uh, tried to read a book,” says Kevin, “And it cut me!”

“Ah,” says Holtzmann, “The humble page... that cruel blade of knowledge... astonishing. Incredible.”

“Who let you have a book?” says Abby, with a frown, “I just hope it was a softback at least. You could have dropped it on your toe.”

“Or on a nuclear reactor,” says Holtzmann.

“Exactly! Or a nuclear reactor. And _then_ where would we be?”

“Uh... dead?” asks Kevin, cocking his head.

Holtzmann shoots finger guns at him, “Attaboy! So dead.”

Kevin beams. “I knew it!”

“Damn right you did,” says Holtzmann, leaning over to ruffle his hair, “C'mere. Who's Holtzy's favourite receptionist?”

“Is it me?!”

Holtzmann puts her spanner down to aggressively ruffle his hair with both hands. “Yes! It's you!”

Kevin pulls a face which can only be described as 'excited Labrador' and honestly Erin struggles to find it attractive at this point. It's sweet, yes. But it's not exactly...

 

“Anyway,” says Abby, cutting across her train of thought, “Kevin, that's fine, if your hand hurts you don't have to lift anything right now,”

“Thanks boss,” says Kevin, “I'm gonna go get myself a bagel, then, if that's ok?”

“That's- yeah, you go do that Kevin, keep your blood sugar up. And get some water too, okay?”

Kevin nods, and everyone turns to wave him goodbye as he trots off toward the stairs, humming happily to himself.

“Look at that,” says Holtzmann, as he proceeds to slam into every single table in the room on the way out, “that man is the result of billions of years of evolution. Incredible.”

“I'm proud of him,” says Patty. “I don't even know why, I just am. He's a good kid.”

Holtzmann nods, lifting her goggles to wipe away an imaginary tear. “The best.”

Abby clears her throat. “I'm proud of Kevin too, but can we get back to the thing with the boxes before Erin starts talking, please, because I really don't want to hear-”

“Hey!” protests Erin, “Just because I can appreciate a-”

“Please,” says Abby, “Erin, I don't know where this is going, but honestly I've heard way _way_ too much from you about the predicted size of aspects of Kevin's anatomy to want to find out what you have to say. Stop. Please. Now, about these boxes - surely some of you could-”

 

“I mean, I can try,” says Patty, “But I'll do my back in. I used to have to lift a lot of shit for work and I swear it messed my spine up or something.”

“You know me,” says Erin, “I'll be out of breath in half a minute and I'll end up dropping everything on your feet. Remember when I helped you move apartments one time and-”

“Yes,” mutters Abby, darkly, “Yes, I do. Holtz?”

“You called?”

Abby narrows her eyes. “What about you? You're not even _doing_ anything, you've just been hitting things with that spanner for the past hour and staring at-”

“I'm doing science, actually.”

“You wanna elaborate on that? Can you tell me what science exactly you're doing that involves aimlessly tapping bits of broken machinery and oggling Erin's-”

“Noooooooo comment.”

Abby's eyes narrow even further. “Uh-huh. Sure. I see you. I see you.”

“Unfortunate. What were you wanting to ask?”

“Why are you not helping with the boxes, Holtzmann?”

“Uh... because I'm lazy and weak? The heaviest think I've lifted all week is the weight of my own enormous head? All I do is science and extremely attractive ladie-”

“Ok! Enough.” Abby sighs. “I can't believe I'm the fittest person here! This is ridiculous.”

“In fairness,” says Erin, “You do Ju-Jitsu, what, twice a week?”

“That's true, but-”

“And kickboxing,” volunteers Patty.

“I mean-”

“You get into physical fights with strangers on a semi-regular basis,” adds Holtzmann. “Which is impressive, by the way.” She winks. “Reeeeeal impressive.”

“That doesn't really count as a sport, but-”

“Last week when your proton gun broke you punched a ghost into the trap,” says Erin, “and it cried.”

Abby sighs. “I mean I guess I... do exercise a little more than you guys...”

“A little?!” snorts Patty, “That's an understatement and a half. Hell, that's an understatement and a solid three quarters, 'cos I haven't exercised since back when I played soccer in college. Oh, and that one time I joined the gym at New Year's and went once and never returned.”

“Mmm, ditto,” says Holtzmann, “Only not soccer. I played-”

“Lemme guess,” says Patty, “Softball?”

Holtzmann shrugs. “And roller derby. Duh.”

“Of course you did. Oh my god.”

 

“And I, for one, have never willingly participated in any kind of exercise _ever_ ,” says Erin, “Which you probably already know, Abby.”

Abby smiles fondly. “Remember when I helped you forge that sicknote and got you out of gym for a solid _year_? That was awesome.”

Erin nods. “I'm forever grateful.”

“Grateful enough to help me with these boxes?”

“Uh... no.”

Abby shifts another box onto her hip and glares. “I hate you.”

Erin smiles sweetly. “I love you too.”

“Don't push it!”

“You know, this is why you're my best friend, Abby.”

Abby points a warning finger at Erin, and the box on her hip wobbles alarmingly. “I will set you on fire!”

“Oh my god.”

“I won't, I won't, I'm kidding.”

“I will,” says Holtzmann, with a glint in her eye that's a long way south of reassuring, “I mean, if you wanna, that is.”

“Please don't?” says Erin.

Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “Alriiiiiiight.” And then, “Hey, Abby, I can probably get some of the smaller boxes if you-”

“Please.”

 

Holtz raises a warning finger. “Ah ah ah. Wait a minute there, before you just go agreeing to any old what-have-you; you didn't hear my terms.”

“Y'know what, Holtz,” snaps Abby, breathing heavily, “I don't need to! These boxes are so heavy, at this point, whatever you wanna ask for is fine, so long as you do actually get the hell over here and _help_.”

“What if I asked you to run into the road,” says Holtz, kicking her legs up onto her desk with a smirk, “Would you do it?”

“At this stage, honestly, I might.”

Holtzmann laughs. “Reckon you'd take a car or two with you?”

“With me? Oh, I wouldn't be going anywhere. I'd ram them. Just,” Abby growls slighty, “slam straight into those cars and _take them the hell out_.”

Patty peers over the book she's reading and raises an eyebrow. “Ok, so, I'm gonna have to formally add you to the list of people who genuinely scare the shit out of me, Abby.”

“Good!” grins Abby, disappearing off around the corner with a remarkable amount of spring in her step, considering the size of the box she's carrying.

“Oh, she was waaaay too pleased to hear that,” says Patty, shaking her head slightly. “Erin, you gotta keep me company over here in the non-scary corner, yeah?”

Erin nods. “I've got your back.” She makes finger pistols at Patty, who raises an eyebrow before turning back to her book.

 

Holtzmann slumps forward, resting her elbows on Erin's desk and planting her chin in her hands. “Aww, you guys, the scary corner is so fun, though!”

Erin tries to nudge Holtzmann off her papers, with absolutely no success, unless Holtzmann winking when she grabs her arm to try and move it counts. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You're _cute_ ,” says Holtzmann, making unblinking eye-contact for slightly longer than the limits of comfortable social interaction allow. Erin suddenly feels slightly hot under the collar. Is the air-con broken or something? Weird.

Patty clears her throat loudly.

Holtzmann laughs, abruptly breaking eye-contact with Erin and jumping away from the desk to turn and blow Patty a kiss. “You are _also_ cute.”

Patty gives her a Look.

Holtzmann blows her another kiss.

Patty shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and goes back to reading.

 

“Oh, Holtzmann,” says Holtzmann, leaning against one of her machines and resting the back of her hand across her forehead with a dramatic sigh, “you're cute, too. So cute.” Then she giggles, readjusting herself slightly, and says, “Aw, shucks, thank you Holtzmann, that really-”

“Yo, if I have to look up from this damn book to stare you down one more time,” says Patty, “I'm gonna get whiplash, I swear. Knock it off and go help Abby like you said you would.”

“N'aww,” grumbles Holtzmann, but she does as she's told, slumping over to the pile of boxes in the centre of the room and hefting the smallest one she can find onto her hip. “What the hell is even in this thing? It's so heavy...”

Erin glances up, “Uh, I can check the list, but most of the items in this delivery were ones you actually ordered yourself – there's definitely at least three boxes of mixed scrap metal, plus an anvil, fourty-seven jumbo sized aerosol cans of whipped cream which you have _assured_ me are for scientific use only, although-”

“Yeah,” says Holtzmann, “I have plans for that cream.” She chuckles. “You'll see, Gilbert... you'll see.”

 

And with that she heads off out of the door with an unsettling smirk and a conspiratorial wink.

Erin cocks her head. “Patty, can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Do you think that whatever Holtz is planning with that stuff is... safe? Like, is there some kind of experiment that hypothetically could involve whipped cream and, y'know, something nuclear? I just feel like that many cans of anything pressurised is probably a bad idea in the hands of-”

“Ok, so, here's the thing, Erin.”

“Yes?”

Patty sighs. “I really do not want to know what Holtz has planned that involves forty-seven jumbo sized cans of cream. I just _don't_.”

“But-”

“Some things are just not for us to know, Erin! Some things are just not- like, really. I sincerely would rather not think about it.”

“Aren't you even a little curious?” says Erin, “I mean, or- concerned, more. I mean, somebody has to- has to keep an eye on her... right?”

“Y'know, I feel like you have that one covered,” says Patty, underlining a line in her book with a wry smile.

“What's that face for?”

“What?! I really do just genuinely feel like you very much have that one down.”

Erin narrows her eyes. “Hmm. I think you-”

 

At which point Abby comes hurtling into the room, almost trips over her own feet, grabs the first box she sees and screams, loudly.

“Abby,” says Erin, with the kind of gentle but deep-rooted fond exasperation which exists in any relatively reasonable person who finds themselves with a best friend as fundamentally _silly_ as Abby can occasionally be, “Please watch your back. You'll pull something.”

“She's right,” says Patty, sagely, “And it'll hurt like a mother-”

“I HAVE TO RACE HOLTZ,” yells Abby, for absolutely no good reason given that she's stood no more than a meter or two from Erin and Patty, “GOTTA GO!”

And with that she spins around, almost trips (again), and bounds off out into the hallway, whooping loudly as she goes.

Another, more distant but swiftly approaching whoop, indicates that Holtz must be about to pass her in the corridor.

 

“Historians don't do this,” says Patty, as Holtz comes steaming into the room and does a cartwheel, still shrieking loudly, “Like... I'm just saying.”

Erin shakes her head sadly. “I picked the wrong major. I really did.”

“Right?! You even dress like a historian, I mean, forreal, that dress sense is _wasted_ on the world of science.”

“I know. It's a tragedy, really,” says Erin, toying idly with a pencil, “I could be sat in a nice library, reading a book, minding my own business and instead...” she shrugs, and gestures at Holtz, who is now doing a series of slightly lopsided forward rolls over the lab floor.

“Yeah,” says Patty, “Yeah, I think about that a lot.”

Holtzmann springs to her feet and bows deeply. “Please,” she says, “No need for applause, no need for applause.” She pulls her goggles down slightly and wipes her brow, before tugging her jacket off and flinging it aside. “Phew! Is it just me or is it _really_ hot in here?” It looks like she has a crop-top on under her dungarees again; this one is dark blue, and it... fits her really well. _Really_ well. 

The pencil Erin's been toying with for the past minute or so gives way under her grasp with a very quiet _snap_. She glances at it guiltily, then shoves it furtively under some of the papers on her desk, hoping nobody has noticed.

Patty makes a scoffing noise which suggests to Erin that this hope may be in vain, and then says, “Holtzy, maybe it's more that running around screaming for no good reason gets you kinda overheated?”

“Maaaaybe.”

“It _is_ a little warm in here,” says Erin, tugging at her collar slightly. Maybe she should have worn the lighter shirt today, after all...

“It's getting hot in here,” sings Holtz, gyrating in a vaguely obscene manner, “so-”

“-remember to drink plenty of water,” deadpans Patty.

Holtz slings the straps of her dungarees off, and the trousers just about manage to remain balanced on her hips as she strips the top underneath off. “Something like that,” she says, flinging the top onto the floor near where the jacket landed and adjusting her bra slightly before tugging the straps back up over her shoulders.

 

Erin is definitely not staring. Not at Holtzmann, anyway. That would be weird. She's just... interested to see what sort of bra she's wearing (black, nondescript, slightly faded). No, wait, that's worse. She's- her eyes just happen to be resting in that direction. That's all.

“Hey,” says Holtzmann, snapping her fingers, “Hey, earth to Erin, are you- are you alive in there?”

Erin blinks. “Oh! Yes- yep! I- I was just-”

“Staring?” Holtzmann is grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Stari- ha! No- what- I don't know where you even _got_ that idea.”

Holtzmann narrows her eyes. “I got it from you... staring at me?”

“Ah,” says Erin.

Patty puts her book on the desk very carefully, and then slams her face into it with a loud sigh.

 

“Hey,” says Holtzmann, jumping into a very unladylike squat next to the nearest box. “I can't blame you, honestly, I- oh, wait, wait, listen to this.” She pauses for half a second with an expression of vaguely strained concentration, and then farts. Loudly.

“Ew!” squeaks Erin. “Oh, that's- that is not very-” She wrinkles her nose.

Patty throws her hands in the air. “You- seriously, Holtz?”

Holtzmann grins, picks up a box, and straightens her knees to stand. She winks at Erin. “You seeing this? Safe lifting in the workplace. That doing something for you?”

“I-” says Erin, “I have to go and- I have some- I have science. To do. In- somewhere else.”

“Hey, I get it. What with my safe lifting techniques, and my awe-inspiring flatulence, and my ratty bra I haven't washed in...” Holtzmann sniffs, and grimaces slightly, “... well, let's just say I haven't washed it in a while, um, probably should do that... Anyway. I get it. I'm a little intimidating. What with how great I am and all. Guess you just can't handle the Holtz, huh?”

“Can't handle the _smell_ , more like,” Erin says, primly. “The whole lab is gonna stink, Holtz, I don't even- urgh. It's disgusting.”

“It's deeply impressive and you know it,” says Holtzmann, calling after her as she gathers her papers and walks briskly toward the lab door.

 

Erin ignores her. She _does_ have some notes to write up back in her room. Well. Probably.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG, FORGIVE ME. I've been super busy making proton packs for my Ghostbusters cosplay group and also being at uni and having MANY ESSAYS TO WRITE and also a lot of original stuff since I'm also doing a creative writing module this year so I'm... a little burned out with the whole writing thing. Apologies! I can't say I know how long the next chapters will take since I'm really snowed under 'til Christmas but they'll certainly get written... it just might take a while. Thank you so much for reading and for your lovely comments, they really do mean the world to me & keep me motivated!! ^_^

“Well,” says Abby, sticking her feet up on the coffee table with a satisfied grin, “A good bust all round, today. Good job, guys!”

Patty nods, Holtzmann winks, Kevin (who had waited in the car for the duration of the bust because he had ‘a really sore foot’) gets up and bows deeply, and Erin- Erin just scowls. “Easy for _you_ to say,” she grumbles, “You haven’t got the flu.”

Patty rolls her eyes. “Neither have you, dumbo – if you did, you wouldn’t have been walkin around earlier. What you’ve got is the common cold. C’mon. What kinda scientist are you?”

“Not a biologist!”

“Ah yes,” says Holtzmann, sagely, “The two sciences – biology and not biology.”

“You two play nice,” says Abby, waggling a warning finger at an unimpressed looking Patty and Holtz, “Erin’s a grumpy little so-and-so when she’s ill. You don’t want to wake the beast.”

Erin scowls at the lot of them and sniffles loudly. “You’ll all be sorry when I die of flu-“

“-girl, you haven’t _got_ flu, how many times-“ begins Patty, but Erin ignores her.

“-and I come back as a ghost and you’d have to bust me-”

Holtzmann snickers quietly. “Oh, you don’t have to be a ghost for that, Gilbert.”

“Pardon?” says Erin.

“I mean sex,” says Holtzmann, earnestly.

Abby carefully puts her hands over Kevins ears, ignoring his vague complaints that he can’t see anything now.

Erin splutters. “You- I- no, ok, stop derailing me! You’re trying to avoid the subject of- of me being ill. And how you should all take care of me instead of-”

Holtzmann winks. “Oh, I’ll take care of you alright.”

 

Erin sighs, but decides not to address the ridiculous innuendo. Instead she rolls her eyes and says, rather smugly, “Ok. Fine. Could you start by bringing me a blanket and a bowl of soup? I’ll be on the couch.”

Patty puts her head in her hands. “It’s like having two Kevins, I swear to god.”

Abby narrows her eyes as Holtz disappears into the kitchen. “Ok, well, firstly Erin, you need to think long and hard about whether you really think it’s a good idea to encourage Holtzmann to cook anything-”

Erin sniffs. “It’s just soup! She can microwave it, it takes like two minutes and all she has to do is press buttons.”

“She blew the oven up last week and it took out a whole chunk of wall!”

“Which we fixed.”

“Which we- oh that is so not the point, Erin!”

 

Erin shrugs, and flops down onto the sofa with a little huff of air. “My head hurts. My stomach hurts. My _face_ hurts.”

“You’re such a wuss,” says Patty, leaning over to prop a cushion gently under Erin’s head, “Seriously, you’re lucky I’m even giving you the time of day here.”

Erin sniffs. “Thanks Patty.”

Abby rolls her eyes and lobs a pack of tissues straight at Erin’s head. “Blow your nose.”

Erin squeaks. “Ow! Abby, why did you-”

Abby puts her hands on her hips. “Ow _what_ , Erin Gilbert?”

“Oh, you do a scary good impression of your mom.”

Abby raises an eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

“Ow… _thank you_?”

Abby beams. “There. Good manners never hurt anybody, hmm?”

“No, you know what did hurt, though? When you threw those tissues at my head and-”

“Girl,” says Patty, shaking her head, “c’mon it’s some tissues. You gotta develop a backbone. I worry about you.”

 

There’s a loud _POP_ from the direction of the kitchen, and Patty sighs. “And I also worry about our resident mad scientist. I’m gonna go pull her outta the flames or whatever.” And with that she heads straight for the kitchen door, which is now emitting a thin but very black stream of smoke.

Kevin cocks his head. “Guys, uh, I think there may be a fire hazard? In the kitchen.”

“Really?” says Abby, as the smoke trailing out from the kitchen door begins to turn a vaguely alarming shade of green, “Kevin, that’s incredible, I’d never have thought of that. A fire hazard.”

“Yeah, uh, with all that smoke, somebody could drop a match and not be able to find it and then there’d be a fire.”

“Uh-huh,” says Abby, “That’s… yeah. I’ll look into that.”

Erin coughs weakly. “Kevin, it’s good to see you’re interested in health and safety. That’s, y’know, something we have in common.”

“… okay,” says Kevin, “Well, I have to go now.”

“Really?” says Erin, managing to prop herself up and cough fetchingly, “Are you sure you can't stay and help-”

“No, uh, my mom called. She says I have to come home right now.”

Erin frowns. “Your mom called? I didn't hear a phone go.”

“No,” says Kevin, cheerfully, picking his jacket up off a nearby chair, “She just shouted really loud, and I heard her, and I have to go.”

“Doesn't she live, like, on the other side of town?” says Patty, raising an eyebrow.

Kevin smiles broadly. “I have really great hearing.” And then he leaves.

 

Erin slumps back onto the couch with a sigh.

Patty rolls her eyes. “What you looking so sad for? You cannot tell me you're seriously interested in that guy. I mean, he's cute, but...”

“Exactly,” says Erin, sounding a little defensive even to her own ears, “He's cute. What more does he need?”

“Uh, y'know, maybe I'd agree if you two had, like, any kind of common personality traits or interests? At all?”

“We... well, we both like health and safety.”

“Oh my god.”

“We do!”

“You know, if you weren't ill right now-” begins Patty, but at that point Abby comes stomping back into the room, dragging a very unrepentant and slightly sooty-looking Holtzmann by the ear.

 

Holtzmann shakes herself free of Abby's grip and hands Erin a bowl. “I made you soup!” She takes a sweeping bow.

Erin looks from the soup, to Holtzmann, to Abby.

Abby grits her teeth. “Yep. She sure did make soup. _But at what cost?_ ”

“It's even edible!” volunteers Holtzmann, with a winning grin.

Erin looks at Abby again.

Abby shrugs. “I think it's chicken.”

“And there you were worrying that I'd mess it up,” says Holtzmann, shaking her head. “Hey, budge over.” She nudges Erin's feet aside and curls up on the far end of the couch like a smug little cat.

 

“Go sit on another chair,” says Abby, pointing a warning finger at Holtzmann. “You'll catch her cold if you stay that close.”

“I know,” says Holtzmann, turning to Erin with an unsettling grin, “You have the most _fascinating_ cough right now. Really rattly. I want to try it out for size.”

Abby throws her hands in the air. “You know what? Fine. It's your funeral.”

“Sweet,” says Holtz, “I want a hearse with like, horses. And I want the horses to have little hats. And I want-”

“Holtz,” says Erin, gently, “We've heard this before.”

“So many times,” nods Patty, “Like, more times than I'm comfortable with.”

“And I have a headache right now,” says Erin, with a sniff.

Holtzmann sighs. “Fine, it's whatever. I don't have to tell you about all my awesome funeral plans if you're gonna be _boring_ about it.”

 

Abby shakes her head, and slumps onto the other couch, next to Patty. “Alright, well, I was going to suggest going out this evening but I guess we can't just leave Erin on her own-”

“Kevin could look after me,” suggests Erin, brightening up a little, “When he gets back from, uh... wherever he is.”

“Seriously?” says Patty.

Abby just raises an eyebrow.

“I... guess that might be a bad idea,” concedes Erin, after a moment. “I guess he's maybe not the most responsible person ever. And I feel like he's not as hot as he used to be lately, you know? It's weird. Like he's got less attractive or something.” She sighs. “I don't know what it is. Did he cut his hair or something?”

“Kevin was never attractive,” says Abby, “I seriously don't get why you would ever have thought-”

“And you see less of him now,” adds Patty, “Cos you tend to hang out in Holtzy's lab so much, and he's banned from there after that one time with the dimension portal and the frogs.”

“Ah,” says Holtzmann, “the frogs. So green. So cheerful. So... flat, after the whole thing with the...” she shakes her head. “Horrifying. I _loved_ it. When's he allowed back in the lab, again?”

“Never,” says Patty, sternly.

“Aww.”

“Holtz, you're damn lucky we even let _you_ in there.”

“That is a very fair point.”

“I'm not- I'm not in Holtz's lab that much,” says Erin, “I really don't think that that's the reason-”

“You're in her lab a lot,” says Abby.

“You're in her lab more than you're out of it,” says Patty.

Erin turns for Holtzmann for support.

Holtzmann shrugs. “Honestly? I sorta thought you'd moved in behind the reactor or something.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Holtz.”

“What? It's true.”

“Well, it's quiet up there,” says Erin, feeling her cheeks heat – maybe she has a fever coming on? That would explain the weird dizzy feeling she's been having lately.

“Really?” says Patty.

“Yes!” says Erin.

“No,” says Holtz.

Abby and Patty exchange a glance, which is... interesting, but Erin's too ill to bother pursuing it right now.

 

“Well, um, anyway - I can just stay down here and watch a movie,” she says, after a moment, “I mean, I don't want to get in the way if you guys have stuff you need to-”

“Hey, I'm down to watch a movie,” says Patty, “I mean, I got some paperwork but... I mean, it can wait, right?”

Abby nods. “Yeah. Definitely. Rest is important for... to make sure you work properly. Right? Breaks. And stuff.”

“I don't believe in rest,” says Holtzmann, “I mean, why sleep when you can science, right? But a movie sounds good. I mean, I was gonna go tinker in my lab for a bit but everything's pretty stable right now so it's not urgent. Well. Not for a couple hours anyway.”

“Oh, because that doesn't sound ominous or alarming at all,” says Patty.

“Well-” begins Holtzmann.

Patty raises a hand for silence. “I'm not gonna ask, and honestly, I'd rather you didn't explain. Now, I'm gonna run and take a quick bathroom break before we watch anything, somebody pull netflix up or whatever.”

 

Abby tails out of the room after her, “I'm gonna grab some popcorn, guys,” she calls back over her shoulder, “You need anything else?”

“A sense of purpose in life,” says Holtz, “and a can of monster and a coffee, please.” She hesitates for a moment, then says, “Oh, and a bag of skittles.”

“You can have _one_ of those things,” says Abby, sternly.

“Aww...”

“Somebody has to stop you from poisoning yourself, Holtzmann. Which one do you want?”

“Hmm. Surprise me.”

“Fine. And Erin? You want anything?”

“Just some water,” says Erin.

Abby nods, and disappears off down the corridor.

 

Holtzmann yawns. “Is it just my incredibly attractive and impressive presence, or is it unseasonably hot right now?”

Erin shivers a little. “I- I feel like I'm kinda cold, actually, I should have...” she groans, “Urgh, I should have asked Abby to get me a blanket. Damn it.”

“Won't be an issue,” says Holtzmann, and flops down on top of Erin like a particularly cheerful ragdoll, “Hi, my name's Jillian and I will be your blanket for this flight. Your exits are here, here and here, and... I don't remember what they say on planes. Haven't been on one in years.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Got banned. Apparently there's a few items they don't like you to smuggle through security. Who knew?”

Erin chuckles weakly, and pats Holtzmann's shoulder. “Hey, seriously, this is nice but you're gonna catch my cold if you stay this close, Holtz.”

“I know.”

“I- that's- surprisingly sweet of you, actually. Um. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. But I confess, I do have ulterior motives.”

“Pardon?!” sqeaks Erin.

“I want to catch your cough. I did mention that earlier.”

“Oh. Right, yes, of course, for a moment I thought-”

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow. “Erin Gilbert, if I didn't know better I'd say you seemed almost _dissappointed_ just now. What sorta ulterior motives were you hoping for, huh?”

“I wasn't-” begins Erin, but at that moment Abby returns, closely followed by Patty.

 

“I've got popcorn!” says Abby.

Patty takes a long look at where Holtzmann and Erin are tangled up on the couch.

“Holtz is really warm,” says Erin, sounding a little too flustered for her own liking.

“It's true,” says Holtzmann, “I'm like a human furnace. I'm like a hot water bottle, only bigger and with relatively less weird glugging noises.”

Patty raises her hands, “I didn't say anything. That's all I'm saying.”

Abby throws herself down onto the sofa and takes a handful of popcorn. “So, what are we watching?”

“I vote Pride and Prejudice,” says Patty.

“Again?” groans Abby, “C'mon, that's a whole tv series, it's way too long to-”

“So we watch the movie!”

“Nuh-uh. No Colin Firth, no point,” says Abby, firmly.

“Yeah, that's fair,” concedes Patty, “What about Kingsman, then?”

“Ooh,” says Abby, eyes lighting up, “Now that's a really-”

“Isn't it my turn to pick the film?” says Holtzmann.

Abby shrugs. “I can't remember. Maybe?”

“Because I want to watch Carol. Or something where people's heads explode.”

“We watched Carol last time!”

“You can never have too much of Cate Blanchett.”

“What about Lord of the Rings?” says Patty, “That's got orcs and fighting and shit _and_ Cate Blanchett. And Orlando Bloom.”

“Not enough Cate Blanchett,” says Holtzmann, “But it's a solid choice.”

“No,” says Abby, “No, it's not. We'll end up watching all three again and then it'll be late and we'll be tired tomorrow and- let's just watch something less... long. Alright?”

 

“What about Spiderman?” says Holtzmann,with a peculiar edge to her voice that suggests this might be going somewhere interesting. “You like Spiderman, right, Abby?”

Abby narrows her eyes. “Who doesn't like Spiderman?”

Holtzmann shrugs. “Patty?”

“Yeah, sure, I like Spiderman.”

“Erin?”

“I, uh- yeah. Sure. It's alright.”

Holtzmann smiles. “And Abby likes Spiderman too, so isn't that just the darndest-”

“Well,” says Abby, brightly, “Sounds like we have our film plans sorted, so I'll just-”

“Abby likes Spiderman two as well, don't you Abby?”

Abby's head whips round to face Holtzmann. “If you dare-”

“What about Spiderman three, Abby? Because a little birdy tells me-”

Abby's standing now, waving a warning finger at Holtzmann. “Jillian Holtzmann don't you _dare_ -”

“Holtzmann,” says Erin, very softly, and with a little more regret than she'd expected in her own voice, “You're a really awesome blanket, but if you're about to fight Abby can you please move somewhere where I won't get caught in the crossfire?”

 

Holtzmann bops her nose gently, and winks. “Anything for you, sweetcheeks.” And then she yells, “ABBY LIKES SPIDERMAN THREE,” and leaps a solid foot up into the air and straight over the back of the couch. Abby goes barrelling after her with an incoherent yell, but Patty manages to grab her arm and hold her back before she manages to scramble over Erin in pursuit of Holtzmann.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK,” shouts Abby, trying furiously to yank herself free of Patty's clutches.

Holtzmann, bent double laughing on the far side of the room, takes a moment to compose herself long enough to splutter out, “Alright Yates, alright, I take it back,” raising her hands in surrender.

Abby glares, but she stops trying to fight her way free of Patty's grip. “Good. Because I don't like Spiderman three. Nobody likes Spiderman three. Ok?”

“Uh-huh,” says Patty, patting her arm consolingly, “It's alright, we believe you. Right Erin?”

“Uh... sure. Yeah.”

Abby nods, collecting herself slightly. “Right! I mean, I don't even know where Holtz could have got the impression that-”

“Well, you did say that his dancing had a certain _je ne sais quoi_ ,” says Holtzmann, with a shit-eating grin, “And you once told me that-”

“I was DRUNK! I SWEAR TO GOD HOLTZMANN I'M GONNA-”

 

And with that a cackling Holtzmann goes sprinting off down the corridor, with Abby, still screaming at the top of her lungs, in hot pursuit.

Patty sighs. “Now, I don't know about you, but I'm still down to watch Pride and Prejudice. Those two can smash up the damn place if they want to, but I'm ready for some quality time with Mr Firth. You want me to grab you a blanket? Cos I think yours might be going into hiding for her own safety right now.”

Erin nods. “That would be nice. Maybe she'll come back later?”

Patty shrugs. “Sure, maybe. I feel like the question you want to ask is will she come back in one piece, but...”

Distantly, loud shouting can still be heard, and then an almighty _crash_ , followed by slightly hysterical laughter and more shouting.

Erin smiles. “You know, I'm so glad I know you guys.”

Patty smiles back. “You know what? Me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I'm working through this so slow, forgive me, but uni work is a massive ~bigdeal~ type of a priority until it's time for Christmas hols, so I hope you guys don't mind bearing with me for now! All your comments an kudos are so super nice and appreciated, and I know I don't reply to everything because I'm toO BASHFUL AND BAD AT TAKING COMPLIMENTS LMAO but I read it all and it means so so much to me. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! ^_^ much love xx

Erin definitely isn't trying to avoid bumping into the others on the way up to Holtzmann's lab – not exactly, anyway. And if she is, well- look, who could blame her? Abby and Patty have spent the past few weeks giving her more and more significant Looks with a capital 'L' every time she nips up to grab a piece of machinery or check some calculations or make sure Holtz _eats_ , goddamn it. Somebody has to make sure she does, after all. What Abby and Patty are trying to imply with those stares is... well, Erin has no idea what they're trying to imply. None at all.

 

So, anyway, after checking both ways and waiting until Patty has her back turned, she scurries up to Holtzmann's lab with a plate of sandwiches (cucumber, white bread, no crusts – Holtz is frustratingly specific about the sort of food she'll actually eat) and a cup of coffee. She's making her way up the steps when suddenly she hears- _voices_?! Surely Holtz doesn't have a visitor. Somebody would have noticed. Erin would have noticed! People don't just... walk in. And Holtz hasn't been downstairs in nearly two days, so...

 

Erin makes it to the top of the stairs, and peers into the lab. She can just about make out the figure of Holtz, still in her dressing gown, perched with her legs up over the arm of her chair and cackling quietly. Which totally isn't giving her flashbacks to every cheesy version of Frankenstein she's ever seen or anything. Anyway, Holtz is there, giggling, and after a moment she adjusts her glasses and says,

“Go on. Say it. Just once. C'mon, seriously, it'll be so funny...”

“No,” says the other voice, and it's- Erin nearly drops the sandwiches when she recognises exactly where she's heard that voice before.

“Holtz, what the hell are you-” she begins, trotting forward into the room at double pace and trying to look stern but probably looking a bit like a slightly flustered substitute teacher (which, sadly, is sort of her default expression.)

Holtz blinks up at her, slightly surprised, and says, “Oh, hey, I was just chatting to-”

 

Erin looks at the machine in front of Holtz's chair. It's spitting sparks out of one side, but that's pretty much something Erin's used to seeing by now, and for Holtz the eclectic tumble of wires and pipes that form the bulk of the creation look, well, actually relatively stable. What draws her attention is the huge darked glassy... window? Is it a window? Well, whatever it is, it's perched in the middle of the tangle, bolted into a huge metal frame, and on the other side is, drifting in the dark behind the glass and vaguely transparent but certainly very recognizable form of-

“- Rowan,” says Holtz, waving one hand vaguely at the scowling face behind the glass, and using the other to help herself to a sandwich, “But he's not being very fun, are you, Ro-Ro?”

“Don't call me that,” snaps the figure. “Let me go.” He snaps his fingers imperiously at Erin. “You! Make her let me go.”

Erin tilts her head to the side slightly, mouth wide, and luckily has the presence of mind to put the coffee and the sandwiches down on Holtz's desk before she drops them. “I- well, I don't know why you'd think she'd do anything at all that I tell her to,” she says, with a baffled sort of irritation, before turning to Holtz and giving her a very long, very stern stare. “Honestly, Holtz, what on earth do you think you're- no, you know what, I don't even want to hear it. Just- you put that ghost back where it came from. Right now.”

Holtz rolls her eyes. “He _is_ where he came from. The window functions as a viewport only. There's no functional way for him to pass through, he's just-”

“Holtzmann!”

Holtz sighs. “Ok, alright, jeez... I was gonna send him back in a minute anyway. He's being really boring today.”

“ _You're_ being really boring today,” says Rowan, with a smug little grin.

Holtz ignores him.

“Today?!” squeaks Erin. “You mean you've done this _before_?”

“Sure,” says Holtz, with a nonchalant shrug, “I mean, he's pretty much the only spirit I've managed to get this clear up to the window so far, uh, I think it has to do with, uh, how he died, although of course I can't say for sure until I have enough data to back up my-”

“Bad science,” sneers Rowan, “But then, what else would I expect from a _girl_ -”

“Excuse me?” says Erin, “You'd better speak nicely to Holtz or she might...” she glances at Holtz, “Well, I don't know, what can you do to him?”

Holtz grins. “Glad you asked.” And then, without further ado, she slams her hands on the glass and starts yelling, “I'M PUTTING MY GAY LITTLE HANDS ON THE GLASS, ROWAN, I'M PUTTING MY GAY HANDS ON THE GAY GLASS AND NOW THE WHOLE AFTERLIFE IS GAY-”

Rowan, clearly straining to pull back from the glass but clearly held in place by some kind of invisible force, makes a pathetic whining noise and screws his eyes closed. “THE AFTERLIFE ISN'T GAY,” he shrieks, jamming his fingers in his ears, “I'M NOT LISTENING, I'M NOT LISTENING, I'M NOT-”

 

Erin watches the pair of them yelling for a moment, lip curling a little in distaste as Rowan writhes unhappily and spews a few frankly _foul_ comments at Holtz who, for her part seems totally unaffected.

“He's seriously a homophobe on top of... of everything else?” says Erin, after a few moments of this.

Holtz leans back from the glass and shrugs. “I guess he figured he really wanted to go the whole hog on being a thoroughly slimy git.”

“Gross,” says Erin, with feeling. “Why are you even bothering trying to speak to him if-”

Holtz sighs. “I've been trying to get through to _literally anyone else_ for weeks. But it's no dice, unfortunately. Not sure why. Got a few flickers of other people at first, but now...” she shrugs. “I've been making the best of it, though.”

“How?”

“Mostly just winding him up, honestly. But he did come out with a few actually helpful observations about the Other Side a few days back-”

“Only by accident,” grumbles Rowan, arms folded.

“- and today I'm trying to get him to sing that Adele song, you know, the one that's like,” Holtz pitches into her singing voice which, as ever, is surprisingly lovely, “Hello from the other siiiiiiiide...”

Erin snorts at that, despite herself.

Holtz beams at her. “See! I knew you'd get it. Anyway, he can't leave 'til I flick this switch,” she motions at a large red switch mounted next to the window, “and let him go, so unless he sings-”

Rowan is visibly seething. He bangs on the glass. “I will make your life a waking hell,” he intones, “I will visit sufferings upon you so abysmal that you will long for death, I will-”

"Holtz?" says Erin.

"Mmm?"

"-and the seas will part in their frothing rage, and the skies will rain down blood upon-"

"I kinda wanted to- I mean, it's a bit hard to chat with him here." Erin motions at Rowan, who barely appears to notice that he's being discussed.

"-and the abyssal maw will open it's jaw wide and-"

Holtz cocks her head. "You sure you don't want me to make him sing?"

"-with thunderous rage upon the lands, as the very earth ruptures and the-

"He's kinda giving me a headache, honestly."

"Ha!" says Rowan, swivelling his eyes round toward Erin, "See, already the weakness within you blooms! My very words sow the seeds of despair in your weak, pathetic little mind, and so the-

"Don't you _dare_  talk shit about Erin," snaps Holtz, and with that she flicks the switch. She scowls at the window as Rowan abrubtly vanishes from sight. “God, he gets annoying. And I didn't want to hear him sing that bad anyway.”

 

Erin stares at the whirling green darkness beyond the window where, moments before, Rowan had been busy glaring like he could cut through glass with just a look. “Well,” she says, after a long minute, “I just hope that glass is really _really_ well re-enforced.”

 

Holtzmann yawns as the glass screen slowly fades and goes dark, flicking a couple of switches on the panel before leaning back into her chair with a contented sigh. “'Course it is. I'm not crazy.”

Erin raises an eyebrow.

Holtz picks up another sandwich from the plate, and flashes a winning smile. “I'm _fun_.”

Erin shakes her head fondly. “Uh-huh. Fun. That's one way to put it.” She glances around the room for a chair, and suddenly notices how little junk there is all over the floor, for once. Well. Wonders never cease. “Hey, it's looking very tidy in here! Well. Comparatively.”

Holtz beams. “I cleared some stuff out, and,” she raises an eyebrow, clearly vaguely astonished at her own abilities, “I _hoovered_.”

“Huh,” says Erin, shuffling out of her slippers and wiggling her bare feet on the carpet, “Oooh, you did, that's-”

“Ah- yeah, wouldn't do that,” says Holtz, kicking Erin's slippers back toward her with an expression of slight alarm, “there may still be some metal shards.”

Erin freezes. “... metal shards?”

“Yeah, they cling to the carpet. Kinda hard to really get them all up with the hoover. I got one wedged in my toe last week and it's still festering a bit, so-”

“Festering?!” says Erin, hearing her voice shoot up a solid octave as she hurriedly hops back into her slippers.

“Yeah, it's so cool, do you wanna see?” Holtz blinks at her expectantly, one hand on her shoelaces.

Erin shakes her head. “I- no thank you.”

“Aww. It looks freaking _awesome_ though. I think a bit of it is going green.”

“Holtz?”

“Mmm?”

“Please see a doctor about that.”

Holtz rolls her eyes. “Fiiiiiiiine. I guess.”

 

Erin shifts a box marked 'm ~~iscsell~~ ~~misselenous~~ ~~Miscelen~~ ~~miscellano~~ ~~mi~~ Some Bolts' off the nearest chair and settles herself down with a sigh.

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “Lil' stressed, huh?”

“What?! No! No, I'm good. Why, do I look stressed? Am I coming over like I'm-”

“You always come up here when you're stressed.”

“But I come up here all the time!”

Holtz nods. “Exactly.”

“But- oh. Hmm. Well- well maybe this room makes me stressed. Ha!” Erin waves a triumphant finger at Holtzmann, “You didn't think of that, did you?”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“Because,” says Holtz, who is currently feeding strips of magnesium into a lit Bunsen burner on her desk, “I am a beacon of calm.”

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Holtzmann feeds her last strip of magnesium into the flame with a nod. “I really am. I soothe people. With my presence.” She regards the Bunsen burner with a little frown. “Hey, Erin, you don't happen to have any lithium on your person, do you?”

“Why would I-”

“Hey, I'm just checking. You're a scientist. You _might_ be carrying some lithium around just y'know, for fun or whatever.”

“Holtz-”

“Like, you know when you see a fire just, as you're going about your daily business or whatever, and you _don't_ have any fun flammable chemicals on hand and it just- like, it totally kills your buzz? Right?”

Erin sighs.

Holtz cocks her head. “Just me?”  
“Just you.”

“Huh. And I was so sure that was something we all felt. Hmm.” Holtz pulls a notebook out of one of her many pockets and a pen from behind her ear, and scribbles something down with a slight frown.

 

Erin sighs and leans back in her chair. Despite what common sense would suggest, Holtz really is - in strange way - a very calming presence. Erin figures it must be because, whenever she comes to visit Holtz's lab, she realises that her own problems are actually probably pretty small compared to what would happen if somebody wasn't keeping an eye on Holtz. Like, worst case scenario for most things Erin worries about is some kind of vague social embarrassment – whereas Holtz may one day literally destroy the planet if she leaves one of her weird beeping machines on for too long, or forgets about the 'no radium in the ectoplasmic chamber' rule.

 

Erin's so deep in thought that she barely notices Holtz heading toward her before she suddenly has a lapful of bespectacled scientist and a vague inclination that this chair is probably not super strong. Hopefully it won't collapse. Oh jeez. And Holtzmann is so _close_. Double jeez.

“Sup,” says Holtz, tapping Erin's nose with her finger, “Alright, hit me with it. What's gotten into you?”

“Blurp?” says Erin, and then, rallying herself (and trying not to think too hard about the fact that her instinctive reaction to a lapful of Holtz was to sling her arms around it), “I mean- what?”

Holtz blinks. “Try that again with words, maybe? I find that words often help me to get my point across, personally.”

“I- why are you here?”

“In my lab?”

“No, I- oh, never mind.”

“Alright,” says Holtz, “I won't. Now. What did you want to talk to the Holtzmeister about?”

“Don't- that's not your name.”

“Mister Holtzington.”

“Stop it.”

Holtzmann wiggles her eyebrows. “I am... Ze Holtzinator.”

“Why are you like this?”

Holtz grins. “I ask myself that question _daily_. Ok, now. Talk.” She rests her head on Erin's shoulder and blinks up at her, expectant.

 

Erin sighs. “Ok, well- I mean, it's silly, really. Maybe I should just talk to Abby about-”

“Noooooo, come on, tell me. I wanna hear.”

“I guess I'm just a little- well. I mean, I have a successful career, right?”

“Right.”

“And I totally played a part in saving the city not so long ago, so that's pretty cool.”

“It is.”

“And I'm- I'm not bad looking? Am I?”

“Uh... no. You're like, the opposite of bad looking.” Holtzmann frowns for a second. “Which is... unbad looking? Dis-bad. Anti-bad... no...” The frown deepens, then abruptly clears. “Good! Good-looking. Ah, I knew I'd get there in the end.”

Erin smiles fondly. “You sure did. Ok. So, um, anyway, as I was saying - that stuff is... is cool, it's all good. But I still just- I mean, obviously relationships aren't, like, the defining part of a woman's life or anything but. I mean, I'm dateable, right? I'm not totally past it?”

“I'd date you,” says Holtz.

Erin rolls her eyes. “Ok, sure, but I mean, like, actually _dateable_. Not just 'your friends say they'd date you to make you feel better about your non-existent love life' type of dateable.”

“Like I said,” says Holtz, with a little more sincerity than Erin normally expects from her, “I'd date you.”

“Ok,” says Erin, feeling vaguely flustered for some reason that she can't quite put her finger on and trying her best to brush it off, “I mean, fine. That's sweet. But, like, it's all very well you and Abby and Patty saying that, but when I actually try to, you know, flirt with people-”

“Aw, is this about Kevin again?”

“No. I think- I mean. He's cute. He's very, very cute. But he's...”

“Kevin,” says Holtz, nodding sagely. “A true mystery and the light of my life. But not exactly-”

“Boyfriend material. No. Yeah, I can see that now.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Well, I wanted it to... he's so pretty, Holtz! I really wanted to _like_ like him. I did.”

“Hey,” says Holtz, patting Erin encouragingly on the arm, “You tried though. You really, really tried to make that a thing.”

“Well, I wasn't _that_ over the top about-”

“Yes. Yes, you were.”

“I wasn't-”

“You were, like, practically drooling every time he spoke to you until a month or two back.”

“Oh. Was it- was I that obvious?”

Holtz gives her a Look.

“Right,” says Erin, “Well, that's... embarrassing. But no. It's not about him.”

 

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “So if it's not Kevin... but it's obviously related to relationships and... hmm. Let me guess – based on your recent consumption of alcohol and ice cream, and the amount of Adele I've been hearing from your workbench - which, by the way, totally inspired my most recent wind-up-Rowan gig, so thank you for that - you asked somebody out?”

“... yes.”

“And he said no.”

“Yes- well, no-”

“He said _yes_?”

“Well, not-”

“He said yes but he's ugly and you're secretly way more shallow than you let on?”

“No-”

“You changed your mind after asking him but now you-”

“No-”

“He said maybe?”

“No!”

Holtz frowns. “Then what?”

“She,” says Erin, “ _She_ said no.”

 

Holtz's eyebrows disappear up into her hair at alarming speed. “Pardon?”

“She. The- you know the florist over the road?”

Holtz's eyebrows shoot back down, and she rolls her eyes. “The straight one? With the deceptively gay doc martens?”

“Right! I mean, you'd think, with that hair- and with the clothes- wait, you _knew_ that she's straight?”

“Sure. Gave her my number like, three days after we got here. Wasn't interested.”

“Well you could have said something! Then I wouldn't have gone and-”

Holtz holds up a finger for silence. “Ok, can I just check something here?”

“... sure.”

“You, Erin Gilbert, asked an actual living human woman out.”

“Yes.”

“On a date.”

“Yes.”

“Like... romantically?”

“Yes? Holtz, is this going somewhere?”

“No, not really, I just figured- I mean, no offence, I figured you hadn't worked out that you were-”

“Bi,” volunteers Erin.

“- right, I thought you-” Holtzmann shakes her head like a dog trying to clear it's ears of water. “You _know_ you like women?”

“Yes?”

“And you know what flirting is?”

“I mean, is that not obvious?”

 

Holtzmann stands up. She walks over to the other side of the room, kicks a gas cannister over, and then walks back. “You're sure you- definitely?”

“About the women thing, or the flirting thing?”

“The flirting thing. I mean, I was pretty sure you liked women anyway, I just didn't know _you_ knew.”

“Oh my god, Holtzmann, yes, of course I know what flirting is!”

Holtzmann squats in front of Erin's chair, making very stern eye contact with her. “Ok, name one flirt that you've ever successfully done. Drooling at the sight of Kevin in tight shirts doesn't count, by the way.”

“What do- this is- ridiculous. Of course I know how to- I dated a guy! For like, two years. Ask Abby!”

“Oh, she's mentioned him. She said he was, quote, 'a horrid little man with a violently incorrect taste in footwear'.”

“He- well, that's... not an inaccurate description. Um. I did date him though. So.”

Holtz claps both her hands on Erin's thighs and shakes. “But you still can't name a single occasion where you actually successfully managed to flirt! Ah- _ha_. So much makes sense now.”

“Ok, you've _seen_ me flirt with Kevin, even if he doesn't exactly-”

“No no no no. No, I haven't. Not _properly_. Look. Imagine... tennis.”

“Tennis?”

“Right. So, imagine you can throw a ball up, and hit it with a racket. But- but it's not _tennis_ unless you can hit a ball back when somebody else does the-” Holtz flaps her hands in the air manically, “- with the- and the racket- and then-”

“You're losing me.”

Holtz flops backwards onto the ground and whispers, “You've got to _volley_ , Erin! And,” she says, raising her head a little to make eye contact again, “don't ask out straight girls. Recipe for unhappiness and confusion.”

 

And with that she once more flops onto the floor, lying flat on her back and shaking her head at the ceiling. After a moment she puts her hands over her face and says, “ _Incredible_ ,” very quietly.

Erin regards her for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side. “You don't really do 'girl talk', huh?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, if I'd have said what I just said to Patty, or to Abby, they'd probably have comforted me instead of yelling about tennis and telling me that my problem is that I don't know how flirting works. Which I do, by the way. I definitely do know how flirting works. For sure.”

Holtz slides her hands slowly down her face. “Do you mind? I mean, I can try comforting you, next time, but I probably won't be any good at it.”

Erin shakes her head. “No. It's... kind of nice, actually.”

“Good.”

“Are you just gonna stay on the floor like that, Holtz?”

Holtz nods, slowly. “I got some thinking to do. New data. Adjusting the parameters... wild... stuff. Oh man.”

 

“Well,” says Erin, standing up slowly, “I guess I'll, um, leave you to it.” She frowns. “Wait, you're not gonna do something dumb with that- that window think you have going? Are you? Because I think somebody should check that out before you try winding up a murderous ghost again-”

“Huh?” says Holtz, “Wait, who?”

“Rowan! You were- you were talking about data and variables so I assumed...”

Holtz shakes her head. “Not that. Don't worry. Bring me food if I don't emerge in the next...” she glances at her watch, “Uh, the next... let's say three days.”

 

Erin sighs, and shakes her head, and as she heads back down the stairs she sets an alarm on her phone to check Holtz in four hours' time. _Somebody_ has to make sure she at least gets dinner, after all.

 


End file.
